


Love in Haps

by snarks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is Bobby's daughter, F/M, Fem!Cas, He isn't really wrong, Hunter!Cas, I'm not sorry, Matchmaking!Bobby Singer, Matchmaking!John Winchester, Sam thinks he's the only sane one, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarks/pseuds/snarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fathers know best. At least, that's what Bobby and John keep telling themselves. Either way they know that it falls to them - as it always does - to get their errant children to pull their heads out of their asses and realize what everyone else has long ago: Cas and Dean are meant for one another. The full, sappy fairytale romance, white knights and kick-ass damsels and all. So it falls to them - two half-drunk, curmudgeonly veteran hunters that they are - to make sure their children don't fuck it all up. Fem!Cas/Dean.</p><p>"They are not “matchmaking” or anything as soppy or girlish as what they are often accused of. They’re merely preparing - like all good hunters do - for a situation that is, without a doubt, going to happen. Is it their fault that Dean and Cas are clearly meant to get married? No. Clearly not. They’re only being good fathers and discussing the fact to properly prepare for when it happened. They are not “damned romantic fools” like Ellen so often accuses. Really."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in Haps

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no excuse. I ended up writing this while working on another Fem!Cas fic and later on when I realized it wasn't going to fit in with everything else the plot bunnies attacked. Plus the idea of Bobby and John trying to be secret matchmakers made me cackle like a loon for hours.
> 
> Title comes from Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing" from the line "If it proves so, then loving goes by haps;  
> Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps." because 1) MAAN is my favorite Shakespeare Comedy and 2) Cas and Dean remind me a lot of Beatrice and Benedict :)

Bobby Singer and John Winchester are, indisputably, some of the toughest hard boiled sons-of-bitches hunting has ever seen.

It’s a fact well accepted by the hunting community and one quietly understood by the world at large. Little fazes the men in a fight and each have their own distinct reputation for not taking shit off of anyone - even each other, as they more than occasional fights in the past have proven. They’re men’s men. All rough edges and impervious armor and whiskey soaked blood. Men of action and tough decisions, who view the discussion of their emotions with derisive snorts and short comments on “chick-flick moments.” There’s nothing about the two that can be construed as made from anything less than stone and steel.

Or almost anything, in any case.

Their children are the notable exception to this facade of pure unchallenged masculinity. Their wives as well, when the women had been alive, but that’s a dangerous subject best left untouched. The point is that when it came to their children - John and his sons, Bobby and his daughter - there comes the notable exceptions to the rule. They’re still hard pressed to be demonstrative - John more so than Bobby who has made a point of showing how tough a man has to be to sit and braid his daughter’s unruly mess of hair day after day - but overall their children are more important to them than their reputations.

John, when his boys were younger and his obsessive need for vengeance not quite yet to a fever pitch, used to take time after each hunt to take his boys to a park to play. Sometimes when the weather wasn’t suitable or John’s wounds didn’t allow leaving the motel room he would settle down in front of the TV for a movie with his sons on each side and some popcorn shared between them. Bobby, every night without fail, used to settle down to tell Cas a story before bed. Sometimes he had to curl up uncomfortably upon her tiny child-sized bed to recount the exploits of some fictional hero. Most often though, he had to do the storytelling over the phone from wherever part of the world he was hunting in that day while his girl dozed on and off on the other end of the line her mother smiling in on the scene from nearby.

Then of course there was the little matter of their matchmaking.

That was what Ellen and Karen - when the Singer Matriarch had been alive - call their little conversations. It isn’t, as a matter of course, _really_ matchmaking. Merely a simple matter of drinking some beer and discussing an important matter involving their children that is - without question - destined to be. They are _not_ “matchmaking” or anything as soppy or girlish as what they are often accused of. They’re merely _preparing_ \- like all good hunters do - for a situation that is, without a doubt, _going_ to happen. Is it their fault that Dean and Cas are clearly meant to get married? No. Clearly not. They’re only being good fathers and discussing the fact to properly prepare for when it happened. They are _not_ “damned romantic fools” like Ellen so often accuses. Really. The fact that they discuss the - as yet hypothetical - wedding in great detail and have almost daily arguments on what their grandchildren are to be named - each certain that their first grandson will be named after them and doggedly refusing to hear otherwise - goes unmentioned in their attempts to defend themselves.

Most of their discussions - _not_ matchmaking plans, really they _aren’t_ \- end up involving some sort of argument or have some halfhearted bet cropping up here and there. The fights never have the usual bite their _real_ shouting matches have and the money placed on various events happening is never really offered or collected. They are more joking than anything else, halfhearted methods of amusing themselves as their children continue on their maddeningly oblivious paths. The jokes range wildly on a daily basis, drifting easily from which of their respective children is going to make the first move -

(“It’s going to be Cassie; Dean’s gets his head turned around by so many girls in a day he’s not going to notice until she smacks some sense into ‘im.”

“Like hell, she doesn’t even know what flirting _is_ , Dean’s going to have to do something first or _nothing’s_ going to happen at all.”)

\- to when the two will finally become aware of the blatantly obvious feelings shared between them -

(“I’ll put five bucks down on Dean getting it by Christmas.”

“Ten says Cas realizes before Thanksgiving and has Dean wrapped around her finger before desert.”)

\- and, as the conversation normally turns to whenever they really got into their whiskey and musings, theories on how the eventual wedding between their children would turn out thrown out lazily and often -

(“Something small, just a few people, she doesn’t like making a fuss. Probably just you, me Sam and the Harvelles - Rufus too if she doesn’t want to hear the end of it.”

“Like hell, Dean will probably want some big blowout. Make sure everyone and their damn uncle knows he’s getting hitched. Two of us going to be shelling out cash for this damn thing ‘til we die.”)

Meanwhile their more often than not unaware children continue to dance around each other only a few feet away - too wrapped up in each other to notice they’re being talked about by their fathers - all dopey smiles and too-long stares and secret jokes no one but them understand. Sam usually ends up making overly exaggerated gagging noises in the background whenever he catches his older brother and surrogate sister in the midst of their sarcasm laden flirtations. The youngest of the bunch rolling his eyes heavily at the way his brother flashes that grin that on any other girl gets him everywhere, snorting in annoyance when Cas starts reciting passages on demon lore in the closest tone to “flirty” the girl has. Neither hunter can blame the youngest Winchester boy, watching Dean and Cas for too long inevitably made everyone a little queasy from the strange sickly sweetness of it all. Being stuck in a room while the two of them for too long - unknowingly doting on each other in the midst of some sarcastic back and forth and short lived arguments - was a bit like staring at an eclipsed sun: overwhelming and dazzlingly but ultimately destined to leave the viewer blinded and burned by the experience.

No, John and Bobby’s conversations are _not_ matchmaking attempts. Their children are only forcing their hands, making them prepare for the future. They were only using a little foresight for the years to come.

...And if, upon occasion, they feel the need to _move things along_ a little, who can blame them? Watching the Dean and Cas balance precariously on the edge of a romance was entertaining, sure, but it’s been years. Enough is enough. Seeing the two hover on the precipice without either daring to leap has lost some of the burble of amusement and has steadily been replaced by no small amount of exasperation. All they need is a nudge, just a subtle little shove to have them toppling over that ledge and tumbling into one another like they should be. One or two little things, just enough that Bobby and John could finally stop just _talking_ about their idiot children’s pretty little wedding - “Telling you it’s going to be a big one Singer, whole damn town of yours is going to be drug into this circus” - and actually get to _see_ it. To stop wistfully contemplating their still imaginative grandchildren over shots of booze - “He’s going to be named _Robert_ you old bastard, after his favorite grandfather.” - and finally get to see the little tyke running around and causing trouble.

Just a few little nudges. Nothing big. It wasn’t _matchmaking_. No not even a little. Just two fathers quietly making sure their idjit children didn’t screw it all up.

Starting with them actually going on a date.


End file.
